In My BDSM Sessions
In my first ever BDSM session I was laying on the floor in strapped up in tight leather bondage.
The mistress used a ‘spine’ which is also called a ‘fishbone harness’ that comprises a dozen wide leather straps that wrap the body tightly. From the neck to the toes there is a lengthwise strap that keeps all the others in place. That’s why it looks like a fishbone.
This was my first ever session, and I’d never heard of this kind of harness before. And it felt so addicitively good.
I vividly remember feeling out of body in that I could almost see myself there as if looking down from above. I could see myself on the floor in bondage. I could just imagine so strongly what it looked like with the dominatrix in the room punishing me.
And at that moment I felt the strangeness of the moment.
It was a moment of deep introspection.
And for all the sessions over the years to come, I have felt that same thing so often, that same introspection, that same view of myself in the session.
It defies logic. It defies common sense. It defies everything I was brought up to accept as normal.
Looking Into The Mirror
All my sessions now happen in rooms with a large wall to ceiling mirror. My first session didn’t have a mirror that I can remember.
I do like to face the mirror and to watch the mistress closely. She is dressed to suit the session, to suit me, and that is a huge thing.
I also watch as she applies corporal. She lifts the belt, the strap, the cane or prison strap then she uses it.
Watching this I feel the thrill of the moment, the thrill of experiencing my innermost secret passions and needs.
But I also see myself as it is a mirror after all.
Seeing myself like this in the dungeon never ceases to amaze me.
There I am. The husband, the father, the son, the office worker, managing staff, in a situation like this seems so odd.
And I need it. Bring it on.
And I keep Coming Back
That too is strange if I give it any thought.
I reject and rail at myself for wanting this. Then at other times I miss it dreadfully and want it again. Soon. I want it now.
No matter how gruelling the session, no matter how hard the mistress gives me corporal I keep coming back.
My butt can be bruised and bloody, my hands tomato red and shaking, my back and shoulders striped and stinging. And I feel wonderfully relieved, refreshed, and at peace.
Then in a few weeks I want it again.
There is no denying it is a core need
Nope. No matter how long I think about this, it always comes back to “It is the way I am.”
I don’t do this to atone fro some mistake or feeling of guilt. I don’t seek this because of some kind of sin or crime.
It wasn’t learned, inflicted on me, something that I was pushed to do or suggested to me.
It is all on me. I am drawn to it.